skinblade

First time here? Start with: Dream #1

Phil Hammond had played with the devil several times in the past.

Nothing serious, of course, but it was enough to give him a taste of danger. He wanted more. He knew the devil could give him power, if only he knew how to get it from him.

It was good to be sixteen, it was good to not have parents that actually cared about what you were doing.

“So, he wears black clothes, who cares?” his dad would tell the neighbors. “At least he’s not on drugs.”

But Phil was on drugs, his dad just wasn’t keen enough to catch him. In fact, all the kids at school knew he did drugs; some had even bought drugs from him in between classes. That’s why they called him Pill. But his dad’s ears never caught the name, and even when he did once in a while, he just thought the other kid’s were picking on his son.

“So, he dyed his hair black, who cares?” his mom would tell the girl’s at church. “At least he’s not worshiping the devil.”

But Pill was worshiping the devil, on occasion, with a few friends from school. He felt he was closer to figuring out the Script. His best friend Dink had found the Script in his step dad’s attic. The greatest mystery about The Script was that it had been painstakingly handwritten using the English alphabet. If someone had taken the time to do that, there must’ve been a compelling reason. Power, Pill thought. And Pill knew it was only a matter of time until he read it correctly. He would unlock its powers sooner or later.

Pill and Dink were sitting in his bedroom talking about the Script. Dink had a music magazine in front of him that he was pretending to read. Dink was a lanky kid with bad acne and pointy, rat-like ears. His knuckles were scabbed over from a fight he’d been in earlier that week. The fight had only lasted a minute, but that other boy would never make fun of Dink’s ears again.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes,” Pill answered the knock.

The door opened and his dad peeked into his room. “Mom wants to know if you boys would like some sandwiches.”

“Derek?” Pill asked his friend.

“Sure.”

“Yes, please. Actually, can we have tuna sandwiches, you know how much Derek loves tuna.”

“I sure do,” Dink said with a big smile on his face.

“Sure thing boys,” his father said and closed the door behind him.

“What a tool,” Dink said after Pill’s father had shut the door.

The door swung open again. “What was that?” Pill’s dad asked them.

“I said,” Dink thought of something quickly, “hope I don’t get too full. You know Mr. Hammond, don’t want to spoil my appetite for dinner.”

“Right-oh.” Pill’s father winked at him, and closed the door behind him again.

Pill waited a few seconds before he said anything. “You fucking idiot.”

“I covered my ass, didn’t I?”

“You got lucky that time.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for suggesting tuna, you asshole. You know I can’t stand that shit.”

Pill was laughing now. He was rolling on the carpet holding his stomach. And after a few minutes, he wasn’t quite sure why he was laughing. It must’ve been the chronic they smoked earlier.

Pill grabbed the music magazine that Dink was reading out of his hands. He flipped it open to the middle where a copy of the Script was taped onto the magazine. He began reading it again, trying to decipher the text.

“You’re probably not pronouncing it right,” Dink said.

“No, shit! That’s why I’m using this phonetic guide,” he pulled out another sheet of paper from underneath his bed. “I’m writing down how I pronounce it every time I read it.”

“Oh,” Dink said snatching the phonetic guide out of Pill’s hands. “I would’ve never thought of that.”

“Right, because I’m smarter than you. And that’s why you brought the Script to me in the first place.”

“You’re such a fucking tool, Pill.”

In one quick motion Pill reached under his pillow, whipped the butterfly knife out, flipped it open and moved the blade inches from Dink’s neck.

Continue reading: Dream #5 - Cindy and The Promise